TasteTesting
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: "I'll bet." Gillian made quick work of the cone. "The thing is. I don't much like to share." An #awesomefic for #CFS Monday.


Title: Taste-Testing

Pairing: C/G

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: LtM not mine.

Summary: "I'll bet." Gillian made quick work of the cone. "The thing is. I don't much like to share."

A/N: This is for _victoria_ who blesses us with fantastic picspams of the most important parts of our show. ALSO, It is for #ltmteamawesome. I bring to you #awesomfic with dash of crack. ENJOY. And for those who review, thank you muchly, I love them like Foster loves slushies.

.::.::.

Monday. It was a typical Indian summer in Virginia. Hot. Disgustingly moist. The dog days of summer were not yet over for the South.

Cal unbuttoned his shirt just one more button, in dire hope that it would provide relief. No such luck. He leaned against the car, waiting for a breeze that wouldn't come. A drop of sweat trickled down his back. That was the last straw.

He pushed off from the car and made his way into the air conditioned shop. It smelled of various confections, one of them being his sole purpose for entering: Ice cream. The line weaved and wandered throughout the shop, but Gillian was next in line. Marvelous.

"I was wondering when you'd finally break down." Foster gave him a wry smile to which he shrugged.

Of course, she wasn't wearing trousers and a black button-up. No. She was wearing a stupid skirt with a slit uptohere and a wonderfully cleavage-bearing camisole. She better not be hot.

"What's the special, Foster?"

"Black raspberry with chocolate chunks," he followed her gaze as she glanced around. "Apparently it's popular around here."

Cal made a face. "Don't they just have sorbet? Something without added colors and questionable methods of design?"

Gillian laughed. He got hotter. "They have a couple. Relax. I'll order for you."

"It better be fantastic."

"Have I ever let you down?" she asked pointedly. He shook his head and moved to a bench away from the swarms of sweaty Americans.

Gillian walked up a few minutes later with a cup for him and a cone for her. She had the special. Cal had: "What happened in this cup? Did the machine explode?"

"Hush. Try it first, then you can mock it."

Cal mumbled to himself as he dipped his spoon and emerged with a colorful amalgamation of flavor. He first touched his tongue to it, wary of what might happen. He neglected to notice the way Gillian's eyes widened at his tongue's daring escapade. Cal was far too concerned with his frosty delight.

"Tastes like… citrus?" smack, smack. "Passion fruit? I can't tell."

Gillian smiled at his quandary. Noticing that her ice cream was dripping, she leaned forward to rescue a wayward drop. Her tongue slid up the side of the cone, then around the base of the ice cream. One magnificent circle after another. She became so caught up in her journey around the raspberry colored treat that she missed the dropping of Cal's jaw and dazed expression.

Cal cleared his throat when he realized she was paying him no mind. Foster's attention must be on him. AT ALL TIMES. Ice cream can come a close second. She glanced over at him with quirked brows, her tongue running slowly just over the tip of the ice cream.

Licking her lips, she paused long enough to give him a look of mild impatience. "What? This will melt and get all over me and my skirt if I take too long."

"Right, because you're so worried about being practical," Cal shot back, watching as she drug the very pink tip of her tongue over the top of the ice cream and then swirled. Cal swallowed hard then narrowed his eyes at his partner.

"I can multi-task, you know," she said as she licked her sugar—coated finger.

Cal shifted a bit at her words and returned to his sorbet. No use in letting this go to waste. In three brain-freeze inducing bites, Cal finished his cup and tossed it aside, saving the spoon.

"Can I try?"

"I don't know." Gillian leveled a serious blow to the quickly diminishing mound. "Can you?"

"Feisty, aren't we?"

"Only when ice cream is involved," she took a bite out of the cone and grinned.

"Just one taste?"

"This is pretty good. You'll have to be creative."

"I have my methods," Cal returned as he slid closer, placing his arm on the back of the bench.

"I'll bet." Gillian made quick work of the cone. "The thing is. I don't much like to share."

Cal knew this to be true. He'd nearly lost a finger once when she'd received a box of chocolates from a client. Never get in the way of Foster and her chocolate.

"Just a little," Cal pulled her a touch closer, but she was determined. In mere seconds, the entire cone was gone. All that remained was the ice cream on her fingers. Before she could do away with that as well, Cal grabbed her hand and latched on to her index finger, swirled his tongue around it, then pulled it out. Slowly.

After Gillian's eyes returned to their normal size, Cal let go of her hand and fixed his gaze on her lips. Before she could even lick them to savor the last of her ice cream, she found a pair of lips pressed close to hers.

It wasn't until his tongue darted out that she realized his intentions. Even then, she somehow forgot that he was in pursuit of a taste and all she wanted was some sugar. Her tongue glided against his and she reasoned that his sorbet was in fact mango. Pineapple too. Yum.

A mother walking past, cleared her throat loudly. Apparently taste testing wasn't allowed here. Pity.

They pulled apart with flushed lips and slightly glazed eyes. Gillian found that in her pursuit, apparently her hands had to investigate as well. Hey, she liked to be well-rounded. She leaned away with her head bent, letting the curtain of her hair shield her blush from his scrutiny.

Cal didn't back away, simply let out a sharp breath as he watched Foster collect herself. He did love unnerving her so. It was becoming a hobby of his as of late.

Foster pulled out some hand sanitizer and cleaned her hands, passing it to Cal who did the same, removing the sticky residue. They stood and continued in silence to the car, speaking only once they'd returned to the highway.

"So, whose do you think was better?" Gillian watched as he pinched his face in thought.

"I'd have to say yours. Just the right amount of sweetness. Besides, anything Foster-flavored is bound to be divine."

"I was wondering when you'd figure that out."

"Be patient. I'm thorough."

"Something I will never fault you for."

"Better not," Cal smirked at his partner. "When's the next ice cream parlor?"

"Twenty-two miles."

"Can you get something with vanilla this time? I need to establish a baseline for comparison."

Gillian merely laughed as she slapped him on the arm. She _loved_ Indian summers.


End file.
